


ki'ilua

by Millie (Wren_K)



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Abduction, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Pre-Slash, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 01:40:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4460402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wren_K/pseuds/Millie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Each viewing cut like a knife.  His partner had been missing for seven hours and Steve hadn’t even pulled his attention away from the suspect long enough to notice the face of the man responsible.  Hell, he hadn’t even heard the words that lured Danny from his side.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Set early season two</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Erica for the expert comma wrangling and Suzy for the shanghaiing into a new fandom.
> 
> ::waves:: Hello new fandom. Hello muse. Hello ridiculous, utterly married boys.

Solid darkness pressed down on Danny in a suffocating blanket of heat that left him gasping. A breathless spike of fear jolted through him like a lightning bolt. He bucked hard against the panic, limbs stopped short by the sharp pressure of thin restraints. Perversely, it was the realization that he was bound that arrested his terror and awoke the cop in his foggy brain. 

With artificial steadiness, Danny sucked in one deep breath after another. The air was stale, but he wasn’t going to suffocate right this minute. He had time to evaluate. Flexing his wrists, he felt the subtle ease of plastic cuffs ratcheted tight – and it was a testament to the utter nonsense that had become his life that he recognized that feeling. Honestly, he blamed Steve and looked forward to letting him know, at volume, just as soon as he figured out where the big galoot was.

He’d been with Steve; Danny frowned in concentration, at a crime scene. His head swam, memory spooling away from him in lazy threads. He remembered a man in a dark uniform and a sudden sickly sweetness. The taste still coated his tongue. Drugged, then? 

“Steve?” he croaked, voice slurred and rough. The space around him felt cavernous and empty. Danny was torn between wishing Steve had answered his call and being grateful that his friend hadn’t befallen the same misadventure.

 

* H50 * H50 * H50 *

 

“Run it again.” The snapped command had an iron hardness that failed to conceal how brittle Steve felt.

“Boss,” Kono started, flicking a worried glance toward Chin. 

“Run it again,” Steve cut her off. He scowled at the monitors, trying to force the video footage to reveal something new through sheer willpower. So far that approach had yet to work.

Chin restarted the raw news footage. On screen, the image of Danny leapt to life. It was the aftermath of that afternoon’s action; a simple knock and talk that had spiraled into a short pursuit and a protracted shootout. In the foreground, uniformed HPD officers and the forensics team documented the mayhem. In the background, on the edge of the captured footage, Steve could see himself and Danny questioning the surviving suspect.

Steve scoured the scene, but nothing stood out that he hadn’t already noticed in the previous viewings. It played out exactly the same way each time. A uniformed patrolman approached Danny, his face turned away from the camera as he delivered his message. Danny glanced over to tell Steve he’d be right back. Steve’s nonchalant wave that accompanied his “I got this, D.” Danny walked off camera with the uniform and apparently vanished into the ether.

Each viewing cut like a knife. His partner had been missing for seven hours and Steve hadn’t even pulled his attention away from the suspect long enough to notice the face of the man responsible. Hell, he hadn’t even heard the words that lured Danny from his side.

“Run it again.”

 

* H50 * H50 * H50 *

 

Danny’s head was clearer the next time he woke up though his body pounded with a hangover that fell somewhere between that lost weekend his freshman year of college and Frankie Ciccone’s bachelor party. The darkness was less oppressive and if he strained against the gloom, he could make out the corrugated walls of a cargo container.

Other than the faint trace of light, his situation hadn’t noticeably improved any. By contorting his wrists, Danny could just trace a fingertip along the smooth plastic that meant military grade zip ties meant for human restraint instead of the commercially available ones that Steve had taught them how to escape one long and particularly hilarious team bonding night. His ankles were looped together and anchored to a solid point; Danny guessed the frame of the bunk he lay upon. He let his head thump back against the thin padding. The air was hot and stale with traces of rust and salty air. Danny didn’t feel any motion and he hoped that meant he was still on Oahu. 

He lost track of time in the unchanging gloom though Danny assumed that Steve would not only have an atomic-clock accurate countdown going, but also have pinpointed his current location using only the faint daylight bleeding in around the door. And thinking of his improbably talented partner, Danny wouldn’t say no to the SuperSEAL bursting through the door any time now, preferably toting a gallon or two of ice water. 

Twenty minutes - or possibly two hours - later, the seams of light cracked wide open and spilled mid-morning sunshine across the container floor. Danny squinted against the sudden brightness. Through watering eyes, he could make out a lean, angular silhouette pausing for effect. And fuck if the crooks with a dramatic flair weren’t always the most tedious assholes. 

“Hello, Daniel,” a familiar and unwelcome voice called out, confirming Danny’s worst fears about dramatic assholes.

“Victor.” Danny let his head thump back against the thin mattress. He huffed out a laugh that only sounded a little ragged. “I honestly wish I could say I’m not surprised,” his hands jerked against the restraints in an arrested gesture, “but I gotta hand it to you. This. This I did not expect.”

“Aww, flatterer,” Hesse sounded smugly amused as he crossed the threshold and sealed the door behind him. There was momentary darkness before bright lights strung across the ceiling flickered to life. The container was sparsely furnished, but obviously intended as rudimentary living quarters. 

“Last we heard of you, you were pining for the fjords.” Danny didn’t want to exchange social niceties with Hesse, but he figured the longer they talked, the more time Steve would have to find him. 

“You know,” Hesse said airily, “Rumors, demise, exaggerations, et cetera, et cetera. And how are you, Daniel? Comfortable? Accommodations to your liking?”

“Oh fine,” Danny matched him tone for tone. “View’s not much, but you can’t have everything.”

“Mmmm. I’ve seen the view from your flat,” a menacing tone crept into Hesse’s voice.

Danny scoffed to cover the liquid chill that coiled around his spine at the thought of Hesse in the same time zone as any place that Grace slept. “Does everyone on this island have an opinion about where I live?”

“I have spent time in actual warzones that were nicer.”

“Feel free to kindly fuck off back to one any time you want,” Danny offered with a brittle smile.

Hesse tisked. “Manners, Daniel. Still, I think we’ve satisfied decorum. Shall we move onto threats and violence?”

Danny dropped the forced geniality. “I’m not going to give you anything to use against McGarrett.” 

“McGarrett – so formal, Daniel?” Hesse rummaged through one of the cabinets along the wall. Danny craned his neck, but couldn’t see what Hesse was doing. “I already have everything I need from you.”

Involuntarily, Danny’s hands clenched into fists, straining at the plastic cuffs. He seethed at the thought of being used to hurt Steve, of being a weapon for Hesse to wield. “What do you want, Hesse?” The only thing he could think to do was stall, keep playing Hesse’s game and give the cavalry time to work their magic. 

“Not much. Global dominations, fabulous wealth, Steve McGarrett broken at my feet.”

“Kinky.” 

Hesse stood at the foot of the bunk, leering down at Danny. Wherever he’d been hiding out since his overstated death at Halawa, Danny could see it had been rough going. The man looked gaunt and pale, his eyes alight with a feverish gleam that twisted something in Danny’s chest. 

“You know this isn’t going to work, right,” Danny needled. “Whatever you have planned, he will find you and he will stop you.”

“Maybe.” Hesse shrugged, unconcerned. “But how much more do you think dear Steven can take?”

“I’m not worried about Steve,” Danny lied.

“Liar,” Hesse chided. He laughed. “Bad liar. You know, I really should have seen it before. I’m a little embarrassed, actually, at how long it took me to realize. I saw it, but I didn’t understand. Too be fair, I’m not sure McGarrett did either.”

“What are you talking about?” Danny lied again. He knew what Hesse meant and it made his heart stutter. The tension with Steve had been on a slow burn for months, maybe since that first day in the garage. Danny’d had time to freak out, nearly ruined things by chasing his own past, and finally let himself enjoy the easy flirtation. He didn’t think anyone else had noticed, despite all the jokes about them being married. 

Victor loomed, moving with the easy confidence Danny had learned to associate with Steve in the seconds before chaos broke out. “Don’t be coy, Daniel.” 

“I’m no-“

The backhanded blow was delivered with insulting nonchalance, rattling Danny’s brain in his skull. Victor threw his full weight down across Danny’s arms and chest, pinning him against the thin mattress. Cruel fingers caught his jaw in a bruising grip, forcing Danny’s chin up and away to expose the long line of his throat. “Now,” Victor said, sounding entirely reasonable, “let’s not do anything rash that either one of us will regret.”

The needle slid in with a sharp pain and the dull burn of injection. Danny was ashamed to admit that he froze, pinned in place more by the thought of the steel in his neck than the heavy weight holding him down. His neck worked convulsively as the syringe was removed and tossed aside. A heavy fatigue sank into his bones and wrapped them in lead.

Victor sat up and studied his handiwork, the grip on Danny’s jaw mutated into a mocking caress. “Now, Daniel, let’s talk about Steve. Do you think he’ll still want you, knowing my cock was there first? Because I am going to fuck you, Daniel. I’ll have what McGarrett won’t allow himself.”

Danny thrashed, fighting the restraints, Victor’s hands, and his own lethargic body.

“No time now, I’m afraid. But not to worry, we’ll have lots of time to get to know each other on our trip.”

Danny frowned in dull confusion, thoughts muted by the gooey warmth that oozed through his brain. He was horrified to feel tears prickling his eyes. “Don’ know Steve,” he slurred, concentrating hard to form each word. “Won’ give up.”

Hesse made a show of considering Danny’s words. “You might be right. He’s a loyal bastard. But what about you?” He gave Danny a long look and reached out to card his fingers through Danny’s hair. “I don’t have to break him, Daniel. Just you.”

It took all of Danny’s remaining coordination to turn away from the touch. His eyelids slid closed and refused to open again.


	2. Chapter 2

Cuthbert Herrick was in the process of regretting his life of crime in a very terrifying and immediate manner that the court system had never achieved. “You threatened Detective Williams,” Steve growled from approximately three inches from Cuthbert’s terrified face, “in front of witnesses.”

“You can’t do this, man,” Cuthbert stammered, trying to squirm free of the iron grip that pulled him onto tip-toe. “I served my time. You got no right.” 

Steve shook him again for good measure. “You threatened Detective Williams.”

“I- I was pissed, so yeah, I talked some. Doesn’t mean I did anything. He’s an asshole, but that’s more trouble than I need, man.” 

Steve released him, one hand unclenching at a time. He smoothed down the rumpled front of Cuthbert’s shirt with a motion that wasn’t quite a shove, but edging close enough to the line that Danny would have commented on it. Bitch of it was, Steve believed Cuthbert. 

They had spent the morning going down the list of everyone that 5-0 had crossed who was currently out of custody that possessed the wherewithal and planning skills to pull off such a brazen abduction. Their success rate made it a pretty short list of people still at liberty. Cuthbert brought up the very bottom of the list. He lacked the imagination for this sort of operation.

Unfortunately, there was another list of people who had the imagination, ruthlessness, and financial resources to orchestrate something like this from inside prison. And that list was a long one.

“You hear anything,” Steve growled, “and I mean anything, I’m your first call.” Steve didn’t expect to hear anything from Cuthbert, just as he didn’t expect to hear from any of the other suspects he’d bearded thus far. He really needed something to hit, or kick, or shoot repeatedly in the face.

“Go on, get out of here.” He sent Cuthbert on his way. The little man scurried away, checking back over his shoulder all the way to the corner, unable to believe his good luck.

“What now?” Kono asked. There was a slump in her shoulders that Steve tried not to see. 

They were approaching twenty-four hours without a single lead. It was like the island of Oahu had just up and swallowed Danny. Steve would almost consider that possibility, but he figured the indigestion of consuming the irritating Jersey detective would have triggered at least a minor volcanic eruption.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I guess we go back to the -“

Chin’s excited voice suddenly came across the earwigs both Steve and Kono wore. “I’ve got Danny’s phone. It’s in Waipahu. Just came on-line.”

“Copy, get me an exact address,” Steve answered. He and Kono jogged to the truck. Steve pulled his phone from his pocket, anticipating a call either from Danny or his kidnappers.

The expected call came in before he even got the truck unlocked. Kono made grabby hands and snatched the keys from Steve. She slid behind the wheel and waved Steve to the passenger side. Steve answered the phone on speaker so that Chin and Kono could follow the conversation.

“McGarrett,” he snapped by way of greeting. 

“Manners, Steven,” a familiar, accented voice mocked him. “Is that how you always answer the phone? ‘McGarrett’? It’s very unfriendly.”

“Hesse.” The world whited out for a moment. “You’re dead.”

“I’ve had this conversation once today,” Hesse sighed with exaggerated boredom, “it’s a little tedious. Honestly.”

“What do you want, Victor?” Steve fought to keep everything he felt from bleeding across the line and empowering Victor Hesse’s fucked up sense of drama. Kono peeled out of the parking lot like she’d just boosted the truck. 

“I don’t want anything, Steven,” Victor answered, managing to sound remarkably innocent for a notorious international psychopath. “I have everything I need. What about you?”

“Where’s Danny?” Steve demanded, knowing full well that he was playing to Victor’s hand.

“Don’t worry about Daniel,” Hesse cooed, “I’ll take good care of him for you. You really should be more careful with your pets, Steven. All manner of terrible things can happen to strays left out on the street.”

“Victor, I’m warning you-“

“Ooh, threats then. Very well, make it something interesting.”

“I want to talk to him.”

“No. No, I think not,” Hesse replied. “It’s adorable that you think this is a negotiation. That you’ll what-? Ride in on your white horse and save him. It’s touching, it really is. How did that work out the last time?”

“With you behind bars and a bullet in your shoulder,” Steve growled. Red and blues flashed as Kono threaded them in and out of traffic, barely keeping to the sane side of reckless. 

“HPD’s responding to the area,” Chin murmured in Steve’s ear. “Just need to keep him talking while we get a fixed location.”

“Sound and fury, Steven,” Hesse scolded. “Now let me tell you how this is going to work. Daniel and I are taking a little trip. I promise to take most excellent care of him. If you ask nicely, maybe someday I’ll tell you how he tastes. There a number of brothels where a feisty little blond will be very popular. I’m going to enjoy watching them fuck the fight right out of him. I figure I can lease him out for a year – don’t worry, Steven, I’ll make sure you get your share of the profits. I’ll even bring whatever’s left of him back to you in one year’s time.”

The repugnant words battered at Steve, but it was Kono’s hitched breath that threatened to undo his control. 

Hesse hmm’d thoughtfully. “I wonder if he’ll be able to bear even the thought of your touch by then.”

“No one knew you were alive, Victor,” Steve spat the words through clenched teeth. “You could have run and no one would have followed. You should have run. I’m going to kill you this time. My mistake was trusting that Wo Fat would get the job done.”

“Yes, wasn’t it though,” Hesse said, still damnably agreeable. “Well, your Mr. Kelly – and do tell him hello for me – should have traced this call by now. I’m just going to leave you a farewell gift. Goodbye, Steven. I’ll give your regards to Daniel.”

Steve could hear the sound of the phone being placed on a hard surface, the line still open. He could hear vague movement in the background and then the heart-stuttering sound of a shot. Silence thundered across the open connection. Steve’s fingertips were white against the phone clenched in his hand.

“It’s not Danny,” Kono said, reaching across the cab to wrap her hand around his forearm. “He said he was taking Danny with him. Why lie about that just to kill him now? Danny’s alive and that means we’ll find him. We’ll go and work the scene. Hesse left us something. He’s arrogant and he’s not that careful. We caught him before and we’ll do it again. We will get Danny back.”

Steve nodded his appreciation and wished he could make himself believe her.

Chin came back on the comms. “Got it. Apartment building at the end of Awanei Street. HPD just broadcast a 9-1-1 report of a gunshot from an apartment on the third floor, north face of the structure. I’ll meet you there.”

With a firm destination in mind, Kono let fly with the truck. Steve manfully resisted the urge to echo one of Danny’s diatribes. 

Five minutes, and an astonishing number of moving violations later, Kono slammed the truck into the parking lot of the shabby little apartment complex, sliding to a halt in a maneuver that would have given Danny kittens if Steve had executed it. Four HPD cruisers were already deployed around the building, the officers mindful of their hardcover. They had learned hard lessons at the hand of Victor Hesse in the past year and a half as well.

“What do we have,” Steve barked at the ranking officer on scene.

Sergeant Kealoha dismissed his officers with a flick of his hand and a few final commands. He approached Steve with a handshake and a concise report. “First unit has been on scene for approximately ninety seconds. No one has entered or exited the building in that time. According to our 9-1-1 caller, the single shot heard originated from unit 3F. The door is ajar, no movement detected inside. No sign of either your suspect or Detective Williams. We were just putting together our entry plan.”

Steve nodded brusquely, dividing his attention between the apartment building, the sergeant, and gearing up. “Officer Kalakaua and I will proceed directly to the primary scene. Hesse has a history of utilizing IEDs against law enforcement targets, so I need your officers to conduct a unit by unit search and evacuation. We have EDU en route, but I’m not giving him any more of a head start. One of the subjects involved has previously posed as an HPD officer in order to infiltrate an active scene. Have your people confirm the IDs of any officers they encounter.” 

Trusting that everyone understood their assigned role, Steve tightened the last strap on his vest with a thump to secure the Velcro. A glance to Kono confirmed she was good to go. She nodded at him and fell in step behind Steve as he advanced on the open-air staircase. Steve spared a flicker of appreciation for the effortless ease of a trusted teammate at his side even as he missed Danny’s steady presence. Of course, Danny would have grumbled about letting the explosive detection unit clear the scene first.

They made swift work of their approach, flying up the steps and along the open walkway that fronted the apartments. Steve hesitated outside the targeted door just long enough to use a small mirror to check for any surprises Hesse might have left behind. Nothing raised any alarms, which Steve didn’t actually find comforting in the slightest. 

Kono darted past him to bracket the other side of the doorway. Steve mouthed a silent three count to her and pushed the door open. Nothing exploded, but the thick smell of blood and spent gunpowder wafted out to greet them. He and Kono made their entry, crisp and concise – moving with easy confidence. 

Hesse hadn’t bothered to conceal the crime scene, hadn’t even invested in his normal dramatics. Four steps from the front door lay the crumpled remains of a young man. Steve bypassed the body, focused on clearing and securing the rest of the small studio apartment. Other than the open living space and kitchen area, there was only a linen closet and bathroom to search. It was a matter of moments before they turned their attention the murder victim.

Steve knew at a glance that he was looking at their fake HPD officer. He had the same build and hair style as the man who had lured Danny away.

“Boss,” Kono said, holding up what appeared to be a stack of 8x10” glossy photographs of the dead man. 

They turned out to be professional headshots with a short résumé printed on the back. Bryan Ogilvy had been, in addition to a kidnapper, an actor and stuntman. His credits consisted of one regional commercial and a handful of minor projects around the islands. His hands were bound with flex-cuffs and his mouth covered with duct tape. He’d been twenty-three and handsome before a bullet to the back of the head warped his cheekbone and shredded his lower jaw.

Chin joined them a few minutes into their secondary, more thorough search. The three of them processed the crime scene with a ruthless efficiency that fell short of meticulous. Forensics only mattered if there was a trial. None of them intended for Victor Hesse to see his day in court. The HPD uniform on top of the piled dirty laundry confirmed what Steve already knew.

The apartment surrendered frustratingly few clues. There might have been trace evidence on the victim – distinctive soil or perhaps pollen found only in one place on the island – but those sort of results would take time that they couldn’t spare. There was a laptop wedged into the bookcase between scripts and oversized martial arts photo books; Chin seized it and set to work ripping apart Bryan’s digital life. There didn’t appear to be anything more suspicious than hook-up sites and casting notices. 

Steve tried not to hover. For lack of a direction, he prowled the scene – moving between the body and the command post outside and back again. Every minute that ticked by added to the unbearable pressure in Steve’s chest. He ached to move, to lash out and fight something, to do anything other than stand here and think. 

He reached for the SEAL and the detachment that used to settle around him effortlessly like a shield. The training was still there, but the protection was badly compromised. Danny had moved into Steve’s life and rearranged all the furniture to his liking. Steve couldn’t bring himself to resent the changes, but he missed the focused numbness. If they weren’t successful… Steve clenched his fists and banished that thought.

“Lanakila,” Chin said with a grim smile. He opened his own laptop and began hammering at the keys like the drummer in a speed metal band.

Steve made it to the count of ten before his impatience won out. “What do you have?” he asked, managing to keep it a question and not a snarl.

“I’ve got his mobile account,” Chin answered without appearing to divert any of his focus toward Steve. “If he was dumb enough to have his cell on yesterday, I can track his movements.” 

“He was twenty-three and an actor, not a criminal mastermind,” Kono said from where she was pulling books off the bookshelves and shaking them out. “Unless Hesse physically took the phone from him, it was on.”

“It was,” Chin said, excitement coloring his tone. “I’ve got him at the scene yesterday at the same time Danny went missing. I’m tracking his movements now.”

“Good work,” Steve told him. “I’m gonna step out and arrange some support.”

“Tell Catherine hi,” Kono said without looking up from her task.

Steve acknowledged the statement with a slight nod and exited the apartment. He leaned against the short railing and surveyed the parking lot. Activity was winding down, EDU was just packing up, and neighbors were slowly returning to their residences. Forensics and the ME would take control of the scene as soon as Five-0 got out of their way; no one had thus far dared to hurry them along.

He took a steadying breath and keyed the speed dial combo for Catherine. 

Catherine answered on the second ring. “Steve,” her voice was warm and gently teasing, “long time, no hear. How may I misappropriate government resources for you today?” 

“Cath,” Steve said, his voice breaking. He closed his eyes and tried to regain control.

“What is it? What happened?” Catherine read his tone and her reply was focused, all lightness gone.

“It’s Danny,” Steve had to clear his throat. “Hesse has Danny.” It was the closest Steve had come to breaking throughout the entire ordeal. He’d made it through the conversation with Hesse and the crime scene, but sharing the news with his oldest friend left Steve raw and exposed. Somehow with Catherine, he couldn’t be Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett – Navy SEAL and head of Five-0; he was Steve McGarrett, a man about to lose the person he loved.

“I thought – nevermind, how can I help?”

Her rock steady support gave him back some of his equilibrium. There was a task at hand and a path to move forward. “Chin is going to send you a data dump from one of the people involved. I need whatever you can get about the locations he visited between yesterday afternoon and today. Hopefully he’ll lead us to Danny.”

“Of course. Anything you need.”

“Thanks,” Steve said. “Cath – it’s Danny. I can’t… I haven’t…” He flailed, words failing him on the verge of voicing something dangerous.

“Oh, Steve,” Catherine’s voice was gentle. “We’ll find him and you’ll tell him. Now go get me that data so I can find your boy.”

“Thanks, Catherine,” Steve repeated, his heart felt lighter and he dared to let himself hope.

Chin and Catherine made scarily short work of dissecting Bryan Ogilvy’s movements over the past day. The cell phone led them to Kalaeloa Harbor. Some dubiously acquired Department of Transportation security footage confirmed both Bryan and Hesse entering the facility shortly after Danny’s abduction. Bryan had departed alone about an hour later. There was no sign of Danny on the surveillance video, but Cath ruthlessly culled through everything she could find about the four ships currently at harbor and come up with the Singaporean vessel Bersalah as Hesse’s most likely refuge. HPD had been dispatched to search the other three while Five-0 and SWAT handled the Bersalah.


	3. Chapter 3

For the third time, Danny woke to hot, stale darkness. He wasn’t sure if he should be disappointed to wake up to unchanged circumstances or relieved that at least things hadn’t somehow managed to get worse while he slept. He settled for being generally pissed off over the entire fucked up situation. The anger was good; it burned at the cotton stuffed between his ears. He’d rather hoped that when he regained consciousness, Steve would have everything sorted out. The SEAL was late and Danny intended to register his complaint. He firmly didn’t let himself think that he might not ever get the opportunity to rant at Steve again.

Before Danny had time to go down the path of increasingly dark futures, the latch on the container door released with a metallic clunk. He forced himself to sag limply against the mattress. It wasn’t likely that playing possum would protect him, but at least it might spare Danny some conversation with Hesse.

The villain in question entered, having an animated conversation on his cell phone. “This squares us, yeah?” Hesse told whoever was on the other end, flicking the overhead lights on as he moved through the container. “I’ve given McGarrett a pretty run about, just as you asked. So now, I walk away, all debts forgiven.”

Whatever the reply was, it didn’t make Hesse happy. “We had a deal. Don’t worry, I’ll finish the job, but then you and I never see each other again.”

After another long moment of listening, Hesse disconnected and tossed the phone onto the table. “Arsehole,” he swore, sounding like a man desperately in need of something to kick.

There was a long quiet that made Danny itch to look around; he swallowed that impulse down and focused on keeping his breathing deep and steady.

“It’s rude to eavesdrop, Daniel,” Hesse said, from startlingly close.

Danny flinched as Hesse had no doubt intended. The terrorist laughed and patted Danny on the head as though he were a favored pet. Danny was amazed to discover he could, in fact, hate Hesse just that little bit more.

“Sleep well?” Hesse asked solicitously. He sat on the edge of the bed and let one hand rest on Danny’s upper thigh.

“I was having the best dream,” Danny said brightly, ignoring the way his skin crawled. “You were in it; we were back on that first ship. Only this time, Steve’s aim was better.”

A muscle in Hesse’s jaw twitched violently, but his tone stayed friendly. “Yes, dear Steven. He sends his regards, by the way. We had quite the conversation about your future.”

“At least I have one,” Danny snarked. He couldn’t hide his anger at the thought of Hesse taunting Steve, “I wouldn’t lay money on you seeing next week.”

Hesse gave him a humorless smile. He smacked Danny’s thigh with a stinging swat and stood up. “Careful, Daniel, you’ll hurt my feelings.” He picked a bag up from the floor and jangled it at Danny. “And here I brought you some jewelry, lover.” Hesse opened the bag and withdrew a pair of handcuffs and ankle shackles. 

“You shouldn’t have,” Danny said flatly. He wondered what Hesse’s reaction would be if Danny vomited on him; it was a tempting thought. “I didn’t get you anything.”

With a smile that seemed to feed on Danny’s obvious discomfort, Hesse snapped the cuffs around his wrists and then his ankles before he clipped the flex-cuffs. “Never fret; I’m sure we’ll think of someway for you to make it up to me.”

Danny could hardly hear for the pounding of blood in his ears. The theoretical retching looked more inevitable by the second. He swallowed hard and turned his face toward the wall; maybe if he went away Hesse would get bored.

“None of that,” Hesse chided, pulling Danny upright. “Now up, up. We’re leaving soon and I’d like to get you settled before we’re underway.”

“’m fine,” Danny insisted, shrugging away from Hesse’s insistent hands. “Don’t need anything.”

“Now, Daniel,” Hesse said in the reasonable tone that made Danny’s fists twitch, “don’t pout. I’m going to be busy for a bit, so this is your one and only chance to take care of any personal needs before tomorrow.”

“You have got to be kidding,” Danny said, hating the way he felt his face heat up.

Hesse heaved Danny to his feet. “I assure you, I’m not. Take the opportunity. It’s eighteen days to Jurong. If you make a mess, I’ll make you sleep in it the entire way.”

Danny tried to jerk his arm free. Hesse’s hand on his upper arm tightened like an iron band. “None of that, please.” He steered Danny to a partitioned-off corner near the bed. “I’m afraid accommodations are rather rudimentary.”

That was an understatement. Behind the simple screen was a portable camp toilet. A restraint dangled from an eye-hook bolted into the wall. Hesse secured the cuff around Danny’s left wrist before releasing his right hand. To Danny’s eternal gratitude, Hesse backed off a few steps. 

Danny attended his business; the back of his neck prickled under Hesse’s gaze. Once Danny was finished, Hesse handed him a wet nap and let Danny clean up before he reversed the process with the cuffs. He led Danny to the sturdy table that defined the kitchen area; the four legs were bolted to the floor. In the center of the table another eyebolt was welded to the table top. It reminded Danny of various interrogation rooms he’d been in over the years.

Hesse gestured for Danny to sit in one of the accompanying metal chairs. He used a second pair of handcuffs to secure Danny’s hands to the table. A heavy padlock linked his ankle chains to the crossbar on the chair.

“Thirsty?” He asked Danny, retrieving a large bottle of water from a tiny fridge installed under the countertop. 

Danny hated himself just a little for how badly he wanted to say yes. Instead, he shrugged, feigning indifference.

“Aww, it’s all right, Daniel. If it comes up, I’ll tell Steven you were a good little soldier and refused any kindness. But be sensible. It is very hot and you have been without for a while.” Hesse made an elaborate show of tearing open the plastic safety seal and twisting open the cap. 

Hesse perched on the arm of Danny’s chair and worked his leg beneath Danny’s outstretched left arm. He let his right arm fall across Danny’s shoulders in a mock cuddle, hand curled against the back of Danny’s neck. Danny tensed against the unwanted contact, but Hesse didn’t seem inclined to turn it into anything worse at the moment.

“Drink,” Hesse said, “I really will take care of you, Daniel. For as long as you’re in my keeping. I understand this has nothing to do with you; you’re just an innocent by-stander in the on-going fuck-up that is Steve McGarrett’s life. You could try being a little grateful even. I imagine his old man would take the chance you’re being offered.”

“Oh, fuck you.” Danny tried to shrug away from Hesse, but the hand at his neck fisted in his hair and yanked Danny’s head back hard. He couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped despite his resolve to not give Hesse any satisfaction.

“I believe I already cautioned you about manners, Daniel. Please don’t make me remind you again. Now, will you drink?”

Eyes watering, Danny managed a small nod against the tight hold.

“Well done!” Hesse sounded pleased. He released Danny’s hair and ran a soothing hand over the ruffled nape. 

The water was icy cold and felt like heaven against Danny’s parched throat. Hesse held the bottle and poured it quickly, openly amused at the way Danny craned his neck, gulping and sputtering. When half the bottle was gone, Danny couldn’t keep pace and choked. 

Hesse stopped pouring and waited while Danny panted, trying to catch his breath. Idle fingers twisted a mockery of comforting patterns in Danny’s hair.

Danny’s vision blurred around the edges. Understanding burned, even as everything else started to dull. Stupid. He’d been so very stupid.

Hesse tsked. “I know. Doctoring the water ahead of time wasn’t very sporting. But I’m going to have to insist that you finish it.”

Danny clenched his teeth and turned his face away. Trussed up like he was, the defiance was born more of contrariness than any really hope of resisting. 

“None of that, now,” Hesse scolded. He set the bottle on the table with an elaborate sigh. Palming Danny’s cheek in a pantomime of tenderness, Hesse caressed a thumb across his lower lip. 

The soft, intimate touches made Danny nauseous. For a moment, he weighed the consequences against the satisfaction of biting the offending digit. Before he had time to explore the thought entirely, the touches turned cruel. His head was slammed back tight against the solid wall of Hesse’s shoulder. One hand pinched down hard against the hinge of Danny’s jaw, sending bolts of hot pain lancing through the fog that he floundered in. The other pinched his nose shut and sealed his mouth tight.

He panicked. Beneath the iron grip, Danny bucked and contorted. There was no artistry or tactic, just the overwhelming need to breathe. Through the rattling and fighting, Hesse calmly held him, clutched tight against his chest. Black tar oozed across his vision before his mouth was abruptly released. Danny didn’t think, just gasped in huge lungfuls of stale oxygen. 

Hesse let him draw two sucking breaths before he picked up the bottle and popped the neck between Danny’s teeth in a single fluid movement. The hand on his jaw slid down to massage his throat, forcing him to swallow. Water poured into Danny’s mouth and down his throat faster than he could gulp. He choked and gagged, water flowed down his chin, but still Hesse held the bottle inverted. 

The water stopped eventually, but Danny hardly noticed when the bottle was pulled away. Hesse unwrapped himself from the odd embrace, letting Danny’s head drop forward. 

The world had started spinning unreliably on Danny, refusing to commit to either speed or attitude as it pirouetted around him. The drugs threatened to pull Danny down into oblivion. Next time he awoke, Steve and Grace and everything good in his life would be hundreds of miles away. It was unacceptable. Danny sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and bit down hard. The bright spot of pain sobered and steadied him.

He let himself list drunkenly, head lolling.

“Next time,” Hesse’s voice was too close and too loud, “just drink the damned water. Let’s get you back to bed.” He slapped Danny’s cheek twice; sharp, hard blows that stung and helped Danny hang on.

Danny held himself in check as Hesse undid the padlock on his ankle chain. Blood tasted heavy on his tongue, but he stayed lax as the terrorist freed his hands from the table. He let himself be manhandled upright, all the while quietly fighting the very real lassitude that threated to pull him under. 

Hesse got him to his feet and let Danny have a second to get his footing. It was the mistake Danny’d been waiting for. He lashed out with everything he had left. Clubbed hands drove upward, catching Hesse under the chin and snapping his head back sharply. Danny followed through by burying his elbow into Hesse’s stomach as hard as he was able.

Stunned by the unexpected violence, Hesse staggered back a step, creating enough space for Danny to launch his next attack. Hands still clutched together, he pivoted with as much force as he could muster and swung at Hesse’s temple like he was batting cleanup at Citi Field. 

The metal of the cuffs connected hard, slicing deeply into Hesse’s high cheekbone. The thin metal also slammed against the delicate bones of Danny’s wrists. Pain so sharp it immediately went numb snaked down his arms. He didn’t wait to see the effect on Hesse, abandoning the fight to flee toward the door of the container.

He managed two drunken steps before Hesse grabbed him and spun Danny back to face him. Vertigo robbed Danny of sense, but he managed to draw himself back and lurch forward to smash Hesse’s nose with a vicious head-butt. The blow stunned Danny, his stumbled step drawn short by the tight grip Hesse had on his shirt.

Hesse released his hold and Danny folded bonelessly. His knees cracked against the floor in a way that was going to really hurt when his brain managed to sort through enough of the chaos to start processing again. He tipped forward, limbs too heavy to keep himself upright. 

Sharp pain arrested his fall; Hesse hauled him back to his knees by his hair. Eyes watering, Danny managed to look up just as Hesse sent a ferocious punch driving downward into his unprotected cheekbone. Danny slumped sideways, bell thoroughly rung. Hesse fisted his shirtfront and pulled him up into a vicious backhand.

Danny was near insensate; too dizzy to brace himself against the third heavy blow. The fireworks exploding behind his eyes came complete with sound effects. Danny frowned; the noise wasn’t in his head. A weak grin twisted his mouth as he recognized the arrhythmic rat-tat-tat of automatic weapons firing.

Hesse dropped to the ground in front of him, their knees touching. He pulled Danny close, teeth bared in a blood-stained snarl. “Fucking McGarrett!” he swore. “I should have dumped your body on his beach and been done with it. Instead, Wo Fat had to get all fancy.”

Danny managed to huff out a laugh; it sounded broken and wrong to his ears. “Steve’s gonn kill you so hard,” he slurred.

“Shut up!” Hesse sounded wild and a little broken himself. A handgun seemed to materialize in his hand, waving frantically in Danny’s face.

“Get the hell away from him!” The command rang through the container like a bell.

The barrel of the gun dug into the soft tissue beneath Danny’s chin, forced his head back hard. He couldn’t see Steve, could barely tilt his head down to see Hesse, the tight fist knotted in his collar the only thing keeping him from collapsing. Danny let himself drag against it.

“This is your only warning, Hesse. Drop the gun and step away from him.”

Danny wanted to cry at that familiar voice. Of course, if he did, Steve would think something was really wrong. Instead, he dug deep for normal and grit out, “you’re late.”


	4. Chapter 4

“You’re late.”

“Hey, Danno,” Steve couldn’t help the way his voice softened as he answered his partner; his eyes, however, stayed hard and fixed on Hesse as if he could drop the man through glowering alone. “You know how bad traffic is on Fridays.”

“Excuses, excuses.”

Steve’s heart, which had been trying to tear a hole in his chest for what felt like days, calmed at Danny’s snark – though the weakness in his voice made Steve want to burn Hesse’s world down. The consuming fear that he’d refused to name evaporated in his blood, leaving behind the razor-keen lash of anger that threatened to overrun Steve’s commonsense. 

“Steven,” Hesse said, displeased at being ignored. “Daniel and I were having a chat. If you’d care to step outside, I’ll be with you in a moment.” 

He could hear the strain in Hesse’s voice, see the tremors in the arm that held Danny upright by his collar; it sharpened the predator in Steve – it was weakness that Steve could taste. He didn’t have a clean shot, not with Hesse kneeling in the shadow of Danny’s lax body, the two facing each other in weirdly formal posture. The barrel of Hesse’s Jericho 941 tipped Danny’s head so far back that he was nearly falling backwards.

“That’s not how this is going to work and you know it,” Steve snapped, irritated that Hesse was starting with the amateur hour theatrics.

“Yes, and how is it going to work, Steven? Are you going to shoot me?” Hesse jabbed the Jericho hard against Danny’s throat. Steve could read the wince of pain without seeing Danny’s face. “Think you can get it done before I blow loverboy’s brains out?”

“Nice, very mature,” Danny wheezed, “You wanna pull his pigtails, leave me the fuck out of it.”

“How about a trade?” Steve offered, desperate to keep Hesse’s attention on him and off Danny. “You let Danny go and I will be your ticket out of here.”

“M’Garrett, don’ you dare.” There was the customary Williams’ spark; Steve let it warm him even as he ignored Danny’s protests.

“Shut up, Daniel. The grownups are talking.” Hesse shook him lightly, never taking his eyes from Steve. “He’s quite the pain in the ass, your pet. It might be worth it to just shoot him and damn the consequences.”

“Think about it, Victor. Let him go and I will walk you out of here. You and I both know this isn’t about Danny,” Steve said. 

“Hey,” Danny said, struggling to turn his head to look at Steve, “I could be a motive.”

“Shut up, Danno,” Steve said, frustrated with his partner’s inability to just let Steve get on with rescuing him. 

“I accept,” Hesse said, ignoring the byplay. “How shall we work it?”

“I put down my weapon. You let Danny go. You and I walk out of here. What happens after comes down to who’s better.” 

“I like those odds,” Hesse said with a short nod. “Very well, after you, Steven.”

“Steve,” the bravado was gone from Danny’s voice, “don’t.”

“I’m handling it, Danno,” Steve told him. He made a show of setting down his SIG-Sauer and holding his hands up. He kicked the handgun toward a neutral corner.

“Don’t do this, you asshole,” Danny begged, voice hushed.

“Hey, don’t worry. I’ll be okay,” Steve reassured Danny. 

“Touching,” Hesse jeered. His gun didn’t waver from where it nestled against Danny’s throat. “Now the rest.”

Steve pulled an injured face of innocence and turned his palms skyward.

“Please, Steven, don’t insult me,” Hesse said, prodding Danny with the Jericho to punctuate his impatience. 

Steve set to work disarming himself, quite pleased with the growing pile in front of him. Hesse raised an eyebrow at the string of grenades that joined his back-up piece, assorted knives, expandable baton, and flashbangs. Throughout the process, Steve watched the tremble in Hesse’s arm growing as Danny sagged harder.

“Now turn around,” Hesse directed.

Steve held his hands up by his head, fingertips brushing the curls at the nape of his neck. His posture on the surface was compliant as he did a slow spin.

“The thing is, Steven,” Hesse drawled, confidant that he had the upper hand. “It occurs to me that I already have a perfectly pliable hostage right here and you have never been pliant a day in your life. I think Daniel and I will take our chances. And I’ll finally be rid of you.” He pulled the gun away from Danny’s throat, aiming over his shoulder toward Steve.

As soon as the barrel was clear of Danny, Steve was in motion. His hand dipped below the collar of his Kevlar vest to grab the tiny hide-out gun holstered there. He lunged to the side, angling for a clear shot at Hesse.

Danny’s yell startled Steve and Hesse alike. He wrapped both hands around Hesse’s gun hand and yanked down hard. Three shots echoed through the confined metal box.

The two shots from Steve’s gun struck true. He didn’t have to check the body to know Hesse would no longer be a problem. Steve’s world narrowed to the blond figure crumpled on the floor.

“Danny! Danny! Danny!” Steve was at his side without being aware of moving. He could hear people pouring into the small container, summoned from their position outside by the sound of gunfire.

“Stupid. Stu– I had it, Danno.” Steve’s rolled Danny onto his back, hands flying as he searched for the bullet hole.

“Y’r plan was to stan there an’ get shot?” Danny slurred, letting his head loll in Steve’s lap. “An y’ call’n me stupid?”

“My plan was to get you out of this without getting shot,” Steve chided. “Where are you hit?” His frantic search had failed to turn up any blood or injuries beyond the ugly bruises coming up on Danny’s face. 

“’s’ok plan,” Danny sighed, eyes drifting shut. “Worked.”

“Danny!” Steve shook him. “Stay awake, Danny. Talk to me.”

Danny, being an ungrateful asshole in Steve’s opinion, turned his face toward Steve’s lap and sank completely into oblivion. 

 

* H50 * H50 * H50 *

 

Danny was getting altogether too accustomed to waking up with the hollow, disassociated feeling of a drug hangover. Some kindly candidate for sainthood had drawn the blinds against the aggressively cheerful morning sunshine. His face – what he could feel of it through the fog – ached; he reached for his cheek to probe the deep bruised feeling. 

A firm hand wrapped around his wrist, intercepting before his fingers reached their destination. “Leave it, Danno,” Steve scolded gently.

“brk’n?” he asked, frowning at the small noise that couldn’t possibly be his voice.

“No, not broken.” Steve guided his hand back down the bed. “Just a little battered, but you’ll be beautiful again in no time.”

“h’ long?” 

“You’ve been sleeping for just over seventeen hours. It’s almost nine on Saturday morning.”

“’sse?” If he squinted, he could almost turn the dark blob standing by his bed into Steve, but the spike of pain behind his eyes made him abandon the effort. A warm hand soothed across his brow, easing the tension and banishing the pain. 

“Don’t have to worry about him again,” Steve said – his tone filled in pages of information that the words left blank. There was the soft sound of pouring water and then the light touch of a straw against his lips. “Sip,” Steve ordered.

The cold water was easily in the top ten best things Danny had ever tasted. He swallowed greedily. “You’re m’ second favorite person, you know that right?” 

“After Grace,” Steve agreed. “More?” 

“In a minute.” Danny tried the whole seeing thing again. It went marginally better the second time; the blob was specifically Steve shaped instead of just generally so. He let his eyes close again. “Whole thing was a distraction,” he told Steve, the fog clearing enough for his cop brain to start coming online. 

Steve sat in a chair next to the bed and picked up Danny’s hand, fingers absently worrying the plastic patient bracelet. “Distraction for what?” he asked.

Danny shrugged, his movements guarded as he checked for injuries – other than his head, he felt surprisingly good. He wasn’t looking forward to telling Steve the next piece. “Dunno why, but the who is Wo Fat. Keeping you busy was the price for Hesse surviving his stay at Halawa.”

Steve’s hand on Danny’s went rigid. Danny opened his eyes and willed them to focus. 

“God, Danny, I’m sorry.” Steve scowled at the floor tiles, shoulders slumped.

“Do not,” Danny said sternly. Even with blurred vision, he could easily see Steve appropriating the lion’s share of guilt. “It wasn’t your fault when you thought Hesse was a crazy bastard and it’s still not your fault that Wo Fat’s a calculating asshole.” 

Steve nodded, but he wouldn’t lift his head.

“Babe, look at me.” He waited patiently for Steve to comply. “Tell me you understand that.”

He nodded again, but dropped his eye contact with Danny.

“Use your words,” Danny chided softly. “I want to hear you say it.”

Steve’s voice broke, “Almost lost you, Danno.” He pulled his hand back from Danny’s.

“Hey. Hey, I’m right here.” Danny grabbed Steve’s hand, he held on until he felt Steve relax. “You found me.”

“Always,” Steve said, and to Danny, it sounded like ‘I love you.’

Danny turned Steve’s hand over so he could hold his hand instead of clasp his wrist. Dozens of words crowded and stuck in his throat; Danny swallowed hard against the rush.

Steve squeezed his hand tight and then let go to busy himself with refilling the water glass. 

Danny was grateful for the water, as much for the chance to gather his thoughts as for his parched throat’s sake. He sucked on the straw and contemplated the path forward. He wondered if it would be cowardly to hold the big declarations until no one was in a hospital bed.

Steve shocked him by breaking the silence; Danny would have put money down that he’d be doing any and all topic broaching. 

“Danno… I… I…” Steve looked down, scrubbing his hand down the back of his neck. It all spilled out in his voice.

Danny reached out and caught his hand. “I know, okay. I know.” 

The resulting flood of emotion across Steve’s face was enough to break Danny’s heart and mend it in one blow.

“You know?” Steve asked, heart in his eyes. “You do?”

“Yeah, you goof. I know. Me too.”

“Good. That’s good.” Steve’s face cracked with the wide, guileless smile that Danny was willing to dedicate his life to causing and cataloging. He answered it with one of his own, uncaring when bruises and cuts twisted beneath the expression.

“Can I – ?” Steve started to ask.

“Anything,” Danny answered; he didn’t need the question. 

Steve took the water from him and set it aside. He leaned over Danny and pressed his lips to Danny’s.

It was slow and sweet; the chastest kiss he’d ever received from someone he wasn’t immediately related to. It felt like home and Danny wanted to drown in it. Steve broke the kiss eventually, letting his forehead rest against Danny’s. The feeling of Steve gently combing his fingers through Danny’s hair might have lulled him back to sleep had it not been for the delighted squeal that came from the doorway of his hospital room.

“It’s just like Sleeping Beauty,” Grace solemnly informed Chin, as she clutched his hand, with all the romantic authority a nine year old could muster.

“Steve’s the handsome prince?” Chin asked, matching her serious tone. Danny groaned, short-cutting to the punchline. Grace nodded vigorously. 

Steve, the traitor, was beaming. He bowed formally to Grace. “Milady.”

“What does that make Danny?” Kono asked, crowding into the room behind Chin. Her eyes twinkled mirthfully.

“He’s the handsome Danno,” Grace informed them regally.

“Yes he is, Gracie,” Steve agreed, sweeping her up in a twirl before gently setting her on the bed beside Danny. He made a show of placing a kiss on Danny’s forehead. “Yes he is.”


End file.
